


Must Be Serious

by softkent (SalazarTipton)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alpha Kent, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Consensual, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Jack, POV Alternating, WIP, alpha in training, kink bingo, more tags to come, parse positive, smut to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2018-10-16 13:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10572717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalazarTipton/pseuds/softkent
Summary: When Bitty, Ransom, and Holster see Parson has been scratched to help someone through their heat, the last place they expected him to show up was at the Haus.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my free space on my omgcp kink bingo card! This is also my first time writing a/b/o dynamics, so when I get into that portion of this, please let me know what you think! Constructive criticism is always welcome. 
> 
> Also, this won't be updated regularly. It won't ever be abandon, but it will take me some time to update as I have other pieces to be working on.

“I don't think I’ve ever heard of Parse being a healthy scratch,” Bitty says over the sportscasters chattering away on the TV screen. 

“He never has been, far as I know,” Holster adds. He bends down and picks up his laptop to check if he’s right. 

“Shit dude, that explains it!” Ransom says, pointing at the TV. “It’s not just a healthy scratch--it’s for heat care.” 

Bitty and Holster look up from their devices to read the subtitles going across the screen. Sure enough, “Parson scratched for next two games for heat care, GM announces today.” They just stare at the screen for a moment, surprised and slightly confused. 

“Heat care? But he’s not paired...is he?”

“Oh, would you look at that. He tweeted about it,” Bitty says as he opens the tweet. 

Holster leans over to read it with him:  _ @KVP90 fluids? check! food? check! all supplies in order. now if the car rental place would just hurry up #alphaintraining  _

“So, he had to travel for it? That’s…”

“Yeah, like, has to be serious or whatever, right?”

“Oh man. Twitter and Tumblr are already going insaaaane!”

All three of them look up from their devices when someone knocks on the door.

“Who the fuck knocks on this team?” Bitty asks, “Other than Tango, I mean, but he’s in a lecture till three.”

Holster gets up with a shrug. Bitty and Ransom listen as he pads down the short hallway in his stocking feet and wait for him to open the door and find out who it is. 

“Fuck me! You’re--”

“They call you Holster, right? You can call me Parse, if ya wish. Mind if I…”

Bitty falls on the floor over Ransom when he slips off the couch, trying to lean too far to listen in. The blanket Bitty was sitting on to protect himself from the couch gets tangled over them. 

“Ow!”

By the time they detangle themselves and get righted, Holster is standing by the stairs with eyes wide and mouth hanging open like he’s finally seeing those ghosts Ransom is always insisting are haunting him and the Haus.

“You alright there, brah?” Ransom asks. 

Before Holster answers, Kent V. Parson, captain of the Las Vegas Aces, is standing in the archway with a duffle in hand, a backpack slung over his shoulder, and snapback making his hair look like like rogue sunflower petals trying to wave at them in greeting. He does wave at them with his free hand. 

“Zimm’s room upstairs?” Kent asks.

“First up the stairs on the left,” Bitty answers. 

They all watch him take the steps two-at-a-time and round the corner. They look at each other now all sporting Holster’s shocked expression. 

“If Kent’s here…”

“That would mean…”

“No! He’s here to see Jack, right?”

“Dude...why do you think Jack wasn’t at practice this morning?”


	2. The Dive In

Kent pats his duffle, running through a mental checklist to make sure he has everything on the list Jack had sent him last month. This being his first time helping someone through their heat, he wants to do things right--especially since this isn’t just anyone, this is Jack.

 

When Kent answered Jack’s call last month, at first he thought it was a prank. No way in hell did Kent think Jack Zimmermann would ever willing call him. Jack made it clear to Kent over the years that he wasn’t wanted, which he’d been trying to come to terms with. Then the phone call thew it all out the window. (Not that Kent had been trying all that hard to move on in the first place.)

 

He takes a deep breath in and lets it out long and smooth before he knocks on the door. Kent leans in to listen for a response. There’s a muffled groan that he can’t quite make out. He turns the handle and opens the door just a crack--not wanting to invade Jack’s space on accident. His heart wants to thump out of his chest at the thought of messing any of this up.

 

“Zimms?” Kent asks.

 

“Just--just get in here!” Jack whines out somehow demanding.

 

Kent straightens up in a jolt and pushes into the room. From his research and Jack’s explanations, Kent sort of knows what to expect: the mood swings, posturing, yearning, the _need._  Knowing and seeing are very different things, it turns out.

 

Jack is sprawled out across his bed in a sweat-soaked warm-up tee shirt and tented boxers. The bottles of Heat2O Shitty left him that morning before he went to class are drained on the floor next to the nightstand. Jack kicks away at the damp sheets clinging to him and twisted around he legs to no avail. He lets out a sad whine.

 

“Oh, uh, just hang on a sec,” Kent rushes out. Any possible awkwardness on Kent’s part catapults out the window as the surge of being needed pulses through him.

 

He slides his bags down to the floor against the bed. When Kent leans over Jack, balancing himself up on his fist and a knee with one foot on the ground, Jack grabs Kent’s hand that was trying to free him from the sheets, causing him to fall right on top of him.

 

Kent lets out an _oof!_ Before he can prop himself up to look at Jack, Jack’s limbs are wrapping around Kent. Jack presses his face up into the center of Kent’s chest and breathes in deeply. He tries to pull Kent down more so he can scent his neck too, but Kent manages to wiggle his hands free. He pushes Jack back down to the bed as gently as he can muster and still get the task done.

 

Jack pouts up at him with his eyes wide and sad, though when don't his eyes look wide and sad? Kent never could resist his ‘sad puppy’ look.

 

“How are you feelin’?” Kent asks. When Jack looks slightly reluctant to answer, Kent brushes his thumb over Jack’s cheek and smiles down at him.

 

“I’d feel a lot better with you--”

 

Kent stops Jack’s hand from rubbing the crotch of his jeans. “Once we talk about how you’re doing, we’ll be closer to getting to that,” Kent nearly recited from one of the many Alpha tips and tricks videos he’s binged over the past few weeks.

 

Jack sighs, but complies in the end. “I’m...okay for now. Drank the stuff Shitty left, not in any pain right now--just uncomfortable. I was just going to try and sleep, but then you came in…You just smell so--ugh!--I’m not even sure how to describe it; you’re--” Jack cuts himself off to nuzzle into Kent’s neck finally and scents him.

 

Kent allows this. He’s worked himself up about this moment. It’s make or break--the scenting either goes naturally without a hitch or everything just comes to a halt. He thinks back to one thing he read over and over again: “don’t force it. It’ll happen on its own. Just relax and do we feels right. Your instincts and your heat partner’s won’t lead you astray.”

 

He curls around Jack and runs a hand through his sweat-dampened hair--holding him in place like he'd done so many times back when they were teenagers. Kent relishes every little flex of Jack's fingers against his shoulders and the warmth his body is seeping into him. Kent lets go of himself and his thoughts to just feel the moment with Jack.

 

Kent knows in words how scenting would make him respond, but feeling it is something else all together. His instincts guide him through the overwhelming tightness caught in his throat. Kent lets his fingers dig into Jack's scalp lightly as he breathes him in. He nuzzles against Jack's exposed throat with his nose. Jack arches into him, waiting for a nip, a bite, just something. Kent smiles against his skin and flicks his tongue out to taste the sweet saltiness of it before he lets his teeth graze along Jack's throat.

 

Jack's legs tighten around Kent; he squeezes him with all his limbs in a full body embrace. The scratch of Jack's nails through the thin fabric of his shirt brings Kent back to the surface from the weighty depths of scent marking Kent has always assumed he would never be able to experience. He swallows around the lump in his throat that stretches down to his stomach and blinks away the burning in the corners of his eyes. He lets out a slow puff of air.

 

" _Crisse_ ," Jack barely whispers against Kent's ears as he too comes back to himself.

 

"My sentiments exactly, Zimms," Kent replies in a breathy laugh around his beaming smile. "That was..."

 

"Still is," Jack corrects him. They pull away just enough so that they can see the other properly.

 

"How are you, uh," Kent catches his breath for a second and looks at Jack. He can’t tell if the cloud of heat has left his eyes or if it’s gotten worse. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Clearer,” Jack says simply. “I’m sorry I made you come all the way here just for--”

 

“Whatever--whatever else just…please don’t be sorry that you asked. I came because I wanted to; I want to help, so just please don’t take that back.”

 

Jack nods just enough for Kent to see without shaking them both. “I’m not sorry you’re here.” Kent can see Jack begin to look threw him as he complies his thoughts. “I’m sorry that I have to ask for help...not just from you,” Jack ends in a sad whisper.

 


	3. Getting Settled

Kent wipes the beads of sweat from Jack's forehead with a gentle swipe of his thumb, trailing it over to his cheekbone to cup his face for a moment.

 

"Need to keep you hydrated, huh?" he whispers.

 

Knowing what the statement means, Jack flexes his legs around Kent's--further preventing him from escaping Jack's grasp to get his bag from the floor. Kent rolls his eyes.

 

"It's not like I'm going far. I won't even leave the bed." He tries to lean away from Jack, but Jack clings closer to him.

 

"Fuck, I hate this," Jack mutters more to himself than anything. "I just..."

 

He stops trying to pull away and instead wraps soothing arms around Jack. "What's the problem, bud? You gotta tell me or I won't know what I should be doing."

 

He feels Jack's adam's apple bob against his shoulder before he answers in the smallest voice Kent's ever heard Jack use--so small the clipped edges of his accents are near nonexistent, "don't move...not yet. I need...just don't, okay?"

 

Jack's reactions click into place among the weeks of research swimming in the back of Kent's mind beyond the warm, misty fog of Jack’s scent. Kent cradles his head, holding him close while wiggling his legs into a more comfortable position--getting settled for the long haul.

 

"I'm not going anywhere," Kent whispers back. Jack shudders under the kiss Kent presses into his hair, breathing him in again. "All that matters to me right now is you. Everything I do is to help you through this. Can you trust me on that?"

 

Jack huffs a sigh against his neck. "Yes, I _know_ that, but it doesn't _feel_ like it," Jack grinds out. "I'm not used to this. It's so frustrating! I don't want to feel so helpless and--and everything because I know why it's happening, but that doesn't make the feelings go away!"

 

Thankfully, Kent's had experience with Jack's mood swings. The heat’s effect seems to just make the snap between emotions more rapid, but they don't last nearly as long as they did back when they were kids. Kent scrapes his nails through Jack's scalp, grounding him as he yells about his body betraying him, Jack’s words muffled against Kent’s chest.

 

"I can't imagine how hard this is," Kent offers when Jack stops to breathe. "Being an athlete, your body is yours. You got that shit on lock and then it just up and does its own things?" He lets out a low whistle.

 

"Exactly," Jack sighs out.

 

He releases his grip on Kent and flops back against the pillows. They scoot an inch or so apart, but their legs remain tangled. Neither had realized how warm their embrace was until the oscillating fan hit the places where they'd been firmly glued together for the better part of an hour.

 

Kent feels his senses sharpen when his eyes focus on Jack: sweat clinging to his tee shirt to the point where Kent’s sure it isn’t meant to be that dark of a grey, heat radiating off him like a meteor burning through the preparations to crash into Kent. His chest is heaving in long, deep breathes. With each inhale, Jack’s shirt tightens around his chest and loosens slight with each exhale. His boxers are just as tented as they were when Kent first came up. Kent doesn’t want to think about how much he must be aching. All in all, Jack looks simultaneously exhausted and aroused.

 

This time when Kent moves to get his bag, Jack doesn't respond. He just watches him lean over the side of the bed, listens to the zipper catch, and gives Kent a small smile and nod when he hands him a bottle of Heat2O after unscrewing the cap for him. Jack gasps a little after chugging down a third of the bottle and wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

 

“Did scenting help?” Kent asks, a little unsure about his phrasing. He’s trying to push through his inexperience with all this, but in the back of his mind he’s already questioning what he’s done wrong since he always manages to turn everything sour with Jack. He’s hoping being direct will change his luck this time around.

 

Jack falls back against his pillows and nods, eyes slipping shut. “Yeah, now I’m just,” he sighs, “really tired.”

 

Kent knows Jack is holding back on how he's feeling. The guy looks exhausted and ill, if he didn't know better. His pallor, his posturing, his everything all scream 'take care of me' to Kent, but he knows although they're scented, Jack isn't ready to be that vulnerable with him just yet. Building up enough trust in the little time they have together for Kent to properly help isn't going to be easy, but he's determined. 

 

“Alright. Get some sleep,” Kent says. “Oh, first you should probably take something. You in pain? Too strained? Emotional? Uh, what else…”

 

The sound of Jack’s tired laugh sends a thrill through Kent’s spine, making him sit up a little straighter. They mirror each others soft smiles. They need to deal with that part of things, but Kent wants Jack’s other needs met first. He’s aware of how much that can take out of an Omega. Plus, he still has no idea how he’ll respond to bonding.

 

He makes his way downstairs with his tablet tucked under his arm, unsure of what he’s going to do to keep himself close by yet preoccupied. 

 

The two of the guys he greeted on the way in are still sitting in the living room with some new additions: a woman sitting some cushions that look slight cleaner than the couch beside the coffee table next to Shitty, who Kent knew from the last time he came to Samwell and from texting him about Jack's heat care, playing Pikmin 3. 

 

“Props for getting this far with so little left,” Kent comments as he steps onto the landing, tugging his snapback into place to hide his finger-mussed hair.

 

“Little left? Please. You should see the magic Lardo can pull in this game,” Shitty says without looking away from the screen.

 

"I doubt you even made it this far," Lardo comments, also focused on the game instead of looking back at Kent.

 

Kent smiles, "well, you're not wrong. I'm more of a Mario Kart and smash kinda guy than a co-op."

 

The guy who had greeted him from the floor earlier turns around to look over the back of the couch. "Ransom, by the way," he says with a little wave. "Do I sense an impromptu smash tourny in our future?"

 

"Managers choice," Lardo says, "and I still say Pikmin is the game of the day."

 

"Don't worry, Rans," Shitty coos at him. "Kent'll be here a few days. Plenty of time for him to kick your ass."

 

Ransom throws an empty water bottle at him, which nearly misses Lardo. She finally looks away from the screen after pausing it with murder in my eyes. "You threaten me and my own children," she says, gesturing to the screen, "in my own Haus?" 

 

"You don't even live here," Ransom says, throwing the water bottle cap too. 

 

"Oh, it's on!" Lardo stands up and lunges at Ransom. 

 

Everyone laughs when Ransom falls over the back of the couch trying to get away. Holster and Shitty start chanting "Lar-do! Lar-do! Lar-do!" She rounds the back of the couch, lays on top of him, and pulls Ransom into a headlock, giving him a noogie with a satisfied grin. He taps out in the first few seconds, also smiling. 

 

Kent didn't know what to expect of the frat house Jack lives in, but he was surprised in a pretty good way. He spends an hour or two downstairs in the living room with everyone watching Lardo and Shitty kick ass in Pikmin while talking everything from hockey to musicals. Kent had spent so much time preparing coming here thinking about how to care for Jack he hadn't had the thought to worry about interacting with his teammates, his friends. He feels a rush of relief when he stands up to get back upstairs to Jack when Lardo turns away from the screen, promising to beat him to a bloody pulp in Smash Bros later. 


	4. Why We're Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the start of the smut begins!

Kent opens Jack’s door slowly, not wanting to wake him. He’s flooded with the scent of heat before it’s open a few inches. The sickly heat makes Kent’s dick twitch against his leg, restrained by his boxer briefs. He pushes the door open far enough to step into the room, closing it with a gentle click behind him. 

 

Inside, Jack rolls over on the bed with his sheets plastered to the sweat on his back. He looks uncomfortable in his sleep with his brow furrowed and a leg pulled up in a lazy fetal position. Kent can only imagine how uncomfortable he must be, certainly on the cusp of a wave. Jack readjusts again, flopping onto his back with his boxers heavy with slick and sweat yet still tented high. 

 

Kent tries to take in a deep breath to relax himself, but instead he gets a deep lungful of heat and need. His head swims. All he wants to do is climb onto the bed and make his Omega feel full and protected. He puts his hands on his hips and breathes through his mouth for a moment. 

 

“Jack?” He whispers into the heat-heavy room, half hoping he won’t answer. 

 

“Mmm?” Jack mumbles against the back on his arm before peeling a single eye open, squinting to see who called him. “Kenny?”

 

“Yeah, it’s just me.” Kent takes his time walking over to the bed. “How are you doing?” He berates himself internally for the dumb question. Kent can see how much Jack’s straining and hurting. Jack doesn’t seem to mind his ineptitude.

 

“Kenny,” Jack whines out. 

 

He hasn’t heard Jack whine in years--not since those nights back in the Q when one of them would want to leave a party earlier than the other. That’s when Zimms pulled out the pout that only Kent ever had the pleasure in seeing, like he’s pulling now. 

 

“Kenny, it hurts. Can we please fix it? I need it!” Jack tells Kent, clearly growing impatient. 

 

“We can, uh...We can do that, okay, Zimms?” Kent assures him after gulping down his worry. Kent kisses Jack on the forehead and tells him to wait while he gets the supplies out of his bag. 

 

This is it. This is the entire reason Kent flew across the freaking country after taking a healthy scratch. Taking care of Jack is all he wanted to do. Now it’s time to pay up and...and... _ No. I can’t think like that! I’m here. We scented and we’re gonna bond and it will be fine. It’s for Jack. Do it for him,  _ he tries to reassure himself. 

 

Kent tosses the condoms and lubricant on the dresser before shucking off his button down. Jack moves to grab him, but Kent tsks. He tosses his belt to the floor along with his hat and finally sits on the bed, hopefully mentally prepared to do this. 

 

“Kenny, we--we don’t have to if you…” Jack trails off, reaching out to touch his shoulder. It’s clear he’s still hurting and aching from his furrowed brow, but his words sound unclouded by the heat. Kent grabs his hand to give it a quick squeeze in thanks. 

 

“Jackie boy, you ready to feel amazing?” Kent asks with a smirk. 

 

Kent helps Jack out of his wet clothes, sure to soothe him with his hands after each article slides across his skin. From his sounds, Kent’s sure Jack’s skin must be overly sensitive. It sure feels like it’s on fire to him. 

 

Jack tries to pry Kent’s shirt off of him, but his grasp keeps slipping. Kent leans away from him to undress himself since it will be faster. The sound Jack makes in the back of his throat is half between a begging, desperate Omega trying to reason through slight rejection and the frustration Jack is sending at Kent for not getting this show on the road already. While Kent’s chest hurts for making his Omega feel rejected—even if only for a second—he bites back a smile. Jack’s never been a patient guy with anything, especially hockey and sex.

 

He pulls his shirt up over his head, getting caught on his ear for a second and unbutton his jeans. With a little shimmy, he’s standing before Jack in nothing at all. Jack’s wide-blown eyes rake down his chest, arms, and fixate on his erection. Kent’s instincts bloom with pride at Jack’s stare. 

 

“Would you quit posturing and fuck me already?” Jack asks (or more like demands), reaching out for him. Kent lets him pull him closer. 

 

Kent settles over his heat-sick body with easy, fluid movements like a panther on the hunt. Jack tries to push up and connect their lips, but Kent can’t help but play with him for a moment, avoiding his wish to kiss him and instead gently biting his neck while his hands smooth down Jack’s hips. He feeling of Jack’s pulse racing beneath his teeth elevates his own pulse until it’s pounding in his ears. Jack trembles under his touch, but still keens, willing Kent’s hands and mouth to do what he wants-- _ what he needs _ . 

 

“Finally,” Jack whispers in relief into Kent’s ear when his hands make their way onto his ass, spreading apart his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know what you think! your thoughts and support keep me going tbh <3 
> 
> next chapter will either be the actual, intense bonding and heat care...or the haus overhearing them! which do you wanna see first?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments and leave a kudos if you enjoyed. <3  
> Feel free to come find me on tumblr: [softkent](http://softkent.tumblr.com/). My ask box is always open for comments, prompts, and so on!


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